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Controlling Bossiness
My partner, Sue, gave me some bad news last night.
She said that our daughter, Molly, had been really
bossy with Jane, her playmate, yesterday. The way
Sue's eyes rolled when she described it told me
that she didn't mean just a little bossy. She meant
obnoxiously bossy, flagrantly bossy, even
repulsively bossy.
I stood there stunned. This could only mean one
thing. Despite my ardent convictions to the
contrary, my beloved daughter is not perfect. What
a blow.
"Was she hungry?" I asked hopefully. "Sometimes
she gets grouchy when her blood sugar gets
low."
"No," said Sue. "She was bossy all day."
I was going to have to deal with this. All day
Molly had been directing her poor friend in what
games they would play and how. Molly insisted on
choosing what imaginary characters had a right to
exist and who could play them. Molly composed the
whole script. When Jane protested Molly would just
say, "Well you can go home then."
I wondered where Molly could have picked up this
"bossiness". Sue is sometimes bossy, but I don't
think I tend to be bossy. Do I? ...hmmm. 'I should
think about that sometime,' I told myself. 'Maybe
when I retire and I have nothing else to
do.'
I offered Sue another explanation. "Maybe it is
just a stage. Her skill in asserting herself is a
little ahead of her ability to understand her
effect on others."
"Maybe," said Sue, "but it concerns me."
Suddenly I felt the weight of paradox. How do we
get Molly to stop being so bossy, without modeling
bossiness in our attempt to control her
behavior?
Suppose, for instance, I tell her that her
friends won't want to play with her if she is too
bossy. Will she do as I say, or do as I do? I can
hear her now, telling Jane, "If you don't share
things (like that candy bar I want half of), then
me and other kids won't want to be your friend
anymore."
This paradox is nothing new. I was quite aware
of it as a rebellious teenager. I used to point my
stereo speakers toward the bathroom, turn up the
volume, get in the shower, and sing along to Bob
Dylan with great dramatic emphasis:
"In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand At the
mongrel dogs who teach Fearing not that I'd become
my enemy In the instant that I preach..."
We face the same paradox in Yugoslavia. Just how
many people do we kill to stop Milosevic from
killing people? I really don't know.
But back to Molly. This evening dinner was late
and bedtime came suddenly on it's heels. "It's
bedtime Molly, go up and get on your PJs."
Surprise, Shock, Horror. "NO WAY!" She throws down
her napkin and runs off, refusing to answer my
calls. I am mad. I want to chase her down and
confront her on her disrespect. I know that will
make things worse, but I want to do it anyway.
I guess I can't wait until retirement to look at
my control issues. Molly responds to control so
directly that I will never have a better mirror to
see myself through. To confront her on her
disrespect now would leave her feeling controlled
about both her bedtime and her reaction to its
sudden onset.
I breathe and take things one at a time. I ask
myself what does Molly need? She needs advance
notice, so that the call to end her day is
something she can prepare herself for. She needs to
have some choices, like "What would you like to do
for the next ten minutes before bedtime?" She needs
the freedom to object or feel bad about rules even
if she has to follow them. And she needs closeness,
more than anything, if I expect her to cooperate.
"Let's go upstairs together, Molly. I want to see
which PJs you pick, which book you want to read,
and which side of the bed you want to snuggle with
me on."
Later, when we were on the same team again, I
wanted to address her tantrum. I asked her how she
had felt when she shouted at me and ran out of the
room. No longer in the middle of a power struggle,
she had a few of her own ideas about what she could
have done instead. I told her that I wished I had
given her fair warning.
It is such a balancing act, providing needed
direction without over-controlling. I fall off
center all the time. I guess Molly makes the same
kinds of mistakes when she negotiates with her
friends. We can talk with her about it, maybe ask
her why it seems that she makes up most of the
rules when she plays with Jane. But how we treat
Molly ourselves will probably say more than any
advice we could give.
© 2008, Tim
Hartnett
Other Father Issues,
Books
* * *
Your children need your presence more than your
presents. - Jesse Jackson
Tim
Hartnett, Ph.D. is a licensed Marriage and Family
Therapist in private practice in Santa Cruz, CA. He
specializes in Individual Counseling, Couples
Therapy, and Divorce Mediation. He can be reached
at 831.464.2922 or through his website:
www.TimHartnett.com
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